


Glimpse of Love (The Double or Nothing Remix)

by ApprenticedMagician



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Neil Josten is a Little Shit, everyone came out to have a good time and Allison is honestly feeling so attacked right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/pseuds/ApprenticedMagician
Summary: It happens like this: a night of celebration, inebriation of the rare and impressive variety, a change of pace from their regular drinking games, and a bet.And afterwards, an argument.





	Glimpse of Love (The Double or Nothing Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [conniptionns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniptionns/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Glimpse of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832874) by [conniptionns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniptionns/pseuds/conniptionns). 



> Happy Remix, conniptionns! I hope you're pleased with this - it was too cute a premise not to extend and run with. Plus your tags said you had fun with the drinking so I tried to keep that going. It actually turned out to be a lot of fun!
> 
> Thanks are due to [ badacts](http://www.badacts.tumblr.com) for moderating this challenge in the first place; and to [forursmiles](http://www.forursmiles.tumblr.com) for [this awesome headcanon](http://forursmiles.tumblr.com/post/142315650708/so-its-a-casual-saturday-night-and-the-foxes-are) that inspired the original Glimpse of Love.

It happens like this: a night of celebration, inebriation of the rare and impressive variety, a change of pace from their regular drinking games, and a bet. (But was it really a bet when you were sure you would win?)

“Guys! We should try to figure out which twin is which!”

“Andrew is on the left.”

“What? How can you tell?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Fake news! I raised those two and I’m telling you right now, there is no way to tell them apart.”

“Okay, next game! We blindfold Neil and he has to figure out who is who!”

The rules are simple: only touch is allowed. Of the cash that everyone wagered, half would go to Neil – if he wins – or everything would go to Aaron – if he loses. Overconfidence from alcohol tells Neil the blindfold won’t pose a problem. Reality proves otherwise, when one nose feels very much like any other. Neil isn’t even been entirely sure he's feeling a twin’s nose – for all he knows, it could be fine-boned Allison beneath his fingers.

In the end, Andrew’s neck gives him away – or, rather, his _thing_ for his neck under Neil’s fingers – and Neil moves in blindly for a victory kiss amid the drunken jeers of the Palmetto Foxes.

When Andrew rips the bandana off Neil’s face and hauls him in for another kiss, the clack of their teeth is the only sound Neil cares about. Until…

“I call bullshit!”

Neil pulls away, lips pulled wide in a smug grin of vanity. “Oh, hush, Allison,” he purrs, playing absently with the hair above Andrew’s neck to occupy him while he quiets the rabble. “You’ve never been a sore loser.”

“Wrong,” she says, her drunken slur lessened with rage, “I am _always_ a sore loser – you’ve just never known because I’ve _never lost._ ”

Neil chuckles into Andrew’s hair, already brushing Allison’s protests aside and instead testing if he can smell Andrew’s shampoo beneath the pungent scent of whiskey and spilled beer. He can’t, and Allison refuses to be ignored.

“Listen to me you _drunk **-** **asshole**!!_ ”

Neil whines as loudly and petulantly as he can but Allison cannot be deterred. “You can’t consider this a victory! You had a fifty-fifty shot of being right -”

“She said ‘shot’!” Matt hoots. “Everybody drink!”

And everybody drinks. Even Allison puts her argument on pause with a quick chug of tequila, breathing hard from the burn.

“There’s no way you knew it was your boy toy, Josten! You took a calculated risk and you played the odds and that’s _cheating!_ ”

A theatrical gasp comes from Nicky. Then a conspiratorial stage-whisper, “Neil _is_ a math major…!”

“Or maybe,” Neil drawls, sneaking an arm across Andrew’s shoulders, “I just know Andrew when I have him under me.”

Aaron makes a noise of noticeable disgust. Neil turns to glare and digs possessive fingers into Andrew’s neck, to which Andrew retaliates with a bite to Neil’s open throat. Neil squeaks. Aaron makes a louder noise of noticeable disgust and throws a corn-chip at their faces. Renee sweetly pats his hands and secures the bowl of chips atop her lap before anyone else can escalate things into a food fight.

“Neil knew the difference within the first hour of meeting both twins,” Kevin muses, tapping out a rhythm on his bottle.

“Big deal, so did Seth,” Allison cuts, which makes Kevin squint his eyes in doubt.

“He did not.”

“He did so!”

“I never once heard him use either of their real names,” chimes in Matt.

“Neither did I,” Dan adds. “It was always ‘dick-bag’ or ‘trash-heap’.”

“Do you nincompoops ever listen? Andrew was ‘dick-bag’, and Aaron was ‘trash-heap’ – every single time.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dan scoffs, “none of us can confirm that. Are you saying _you_ always know which twin is which?”

While they continued to argue it out, Neil turns to Andrew. “Seth figured you two out?”

Andrew shrugs. “Track marks.”

Neil has to think that over for a long minute. “But you don’t have track marks,” he says.

That earns him a pointed look and a hard pinch to the nose, which he bats away clumsily. He’s maybe had more to drink than the daily recommendation. Thanks to that, it takes him a little longer than it should to realize Andrew’s meaning and learn something new about Aaron.

“Oh,” he says, stupidly.

“Addicts always know addicts,” Andrew further explains, ignoring the bottlecap Aaron chucks at him.

Neil doubts it. “Matt doesn’t seem to know.”

“He does.”

“How d’you figure?”

Andrew’s smile is sharp as daggers. “He shares a bed and shower with Aaron.”

“ **That’s it!** ”

And indeed it is because Renee trips a flushed Aaron from the couch to the sticky floor within three seconds; he doesn’t even reach the remote he was grabbing for. Andrew's disciplined posture is the only reason Neil doesn't fall over from snickering so hard.

“Aaron??” Nicky calls, alarmed at the commotion. “When did you fall?”

“NO!!” Allison cries when she sees. “No! Dammit, Renee! Now we can’t retest Neil McLiar!”

It’s true that the chips in his hair and the sticky mess of his face (not to mention his newly bleeding nose) make Aaron much more distinguished from Andrew now. Whatever hopes Allison had of issuing a rematch were well and truly dashed for the night. Nicky is almost falling over himself to pass Aaron tissues.

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Allie,” Neil gloats, rubbing tears from his eye, and also rubbing in his victory with a despicable new nickname that has Allison pouring a whole new drink to forget she ever heard it. “I would know Andrew anywhere, blind, deaf, or stupid. Just admit it and get on my level.”

“Bull. Shit. Josten. You’re drunk, you’re a liar, and you’re a _goddamn twink,_ ” half the room spits or spills their liquor. Kevin chokes. Nicky leans over to give Neil a high five. “You dunno **_shit_**  and I’ma prove it!”

She downs the rest of her drink, breathes out the fire, and then promptly grabs both Andrew and Aaron – under doubled protest - by their shirt sleeves to drag them into the kitchen, Nicky trailing anxiously behind. Kevin is still coughing vodka out of his lungs, which Neil really thinks he should be over if he listens to Neil and Andrew’s bedtimes as often as he claims. Renee, seeing how badly Neil’s swaying without Andrew, eases him down to the couch and he thanks her when she offers the remains of the fallen chip bowl.

Allison returns a minute later, strides right over to Neil, and slams two shot glasses onto the table in front of him. They’re blue, which strikes him as alarming for some reason. Dan starts laughing.

“Pornstars,” Allison proclaims with arms crossed, hips as crooked as her smile. “You tell me which twin made which shot and you get your money.”

“It’s made with the same stuff, Allison,” Matt says, the first as always to come to Neil’s defense. “There’s no way they’re different.”

“I’m sure _Neil_ would beg to differ.”

“Someone’s salty,” mutters one of the twins, re-entering the living room to watch the show from the far wall – Aaron? No, it’s a bit far for Neil’s drunk eyes but this twin doesn’t have a nose rubbed red and dry from cleaning away blood. Andrew’s practically drilling a hole into Neil's skull and there’s a weird glimmer in his eye that gives Neil pause but the chance to show-up Allison is too tempting by far – Andrew’s mischief is a risk he’ll have to endure.

“To your riches,” Neil salutes with the shot glass, knocking it back and nearly gagging on the sweet syrup that clogs up his throat. Ugh, this is Allison’s way of punishing him – a sadist she might be, but Neil knows this is her way of grinding out some satisfaction even if she loses a second time.

In vain, Neil tries scraping the taste off his tongue with his teeth. Renee hides a chuckle behind her hand; Dan and Matt offer no such courtesy. Kevin grimaces in sympathy but the clutch on his own flavourless drink doesn’t loosen.

Allison grins like a predator. “Do you concede?” she purrs, as if this one ounce of liquid were enough to turn Neil’s stomach off a collective pot of $300 (which he’s _already_ _earned_ by the way).

Refusing to break from Allison’s withering stare, Neil picks up the other shot. He cheers, “To your health,” which will take a downturn when _he wins,_ and –

He very nearly actually spits it out this time. He comes out of the shot breathing for air like he had been held underwater and everyone looks torn between laughing and asking him if he’s okay.

He coughs and roughs out, “That one’s Andrew’s,” and promptly grabs Renee’s Shirley Temple to wash it down.

“Are you sure? How d’you know?” Allison presses.

Because he refuses to give her the satisfaction of lying, Neil breaks long enough to truthfully explain, “You’d know if you tasted it.”

Matt snaps his fingers. “Andrew probably makes them super sweet.”

Actually, he’d mixed salt into it. A lot of salt. Heaven only knows how he managed to slip it in without Allison noticing. It’s probably his own revenge for being forced into this game, but Neil thinks it’s just a _little_ unfair he’s the only one Andrew’s punishing.

Then Neil notices that Dan is physically restraining Allison from ripping someone’s hair out – possibly her own – and Neil figures a little salt on the tongue is a good trade-off for $300.


End file.
